Homelands Pt. 07 Ch. 02

From that point on, the two brothers worked in tandem while Reilly did his best to display some form of dominance. At times, they'd all three go a bit rough on Oona, to her delight and Cahill's slight discomfort. Other times, Seamus and Cahill would play good cop to Reilly's bad cop. Whenever the nymph thought she knew what was coming next, though, the brothers would surprise her. They did their best to hold her orgasm at bay as long as they could. Reilly showed no such restraint, of course, and he got his mother off more than a few times. The most intense moment came when Oona rode Cahill, took Seamus in her ass, and sucked on her son's dick. Their three cocks formed an airtight seal, and the brothers used both their bodies and their glamours to guide their aunt to the heights of ecstasy.

When she hit her climax, she came so hard that the trees sighed and the earth shuddered. Flowering vines sprouted up from the ground, writhing like a woman caught in the throes of ecstasy. Energy poured into Cahill and Seamus, and they drank greedily.

After that, apparently thinking it would be amusing to provide their aunt with three hard dicks without having to include their cousin, Seamus split himself in two.

Cahill had seen his brother do that before, but it had never made the same impression on him as it did at that moment. In the past, he'd always been half sure that his brother was a figment of his imagination. He hadn't fully appreciated what was involved when he witnessed such displays. In principle, he was capable of the same things, but some feats came more easily to him than others, and having his consciousness occupy two bodies at once was not one that he was prepared to attempt.

Oona was neither as powerful nor as talented as her older sister, but Cahill nonetheless found his aunt's command of glamours wondrous to behold. When she set her mind to it, she absolutely blew Cahill away. Blew all three of them away, in fact, even though Seamus and Reilly were far more accustomed to the ways of their kind.

He'd never thought his aunt dull, but Cahill discovered a new appreciation for her that night, just as he was developing a new appreciation for all the things he'd taken for granted in the past. Through amazing feats both physical and metaphysical, Oona coaxed more cum out of her three studs than Cahill would have thought possible before Liadan taught him how to convert his energy into ejaculate. Most of the cum they served up went down her throat, as Oona had an unspeakable hunger for the stuff, but before all was said and done, they'd filled her other holes several times and coated her from head to navel in the stuff.

When they finally exhausted themselves, and all four lay in a bed of new flowers, Oona said, "Don't you wish you didn't have to wait til nighttime to do this, Cahill?"

He laughed. "Sure. If that were possible."

Seamus groaned.

Running her knuckles lightly down Cahill's body, their aunt said, "But it is. All you have to do is believe. Leave the Dreaming behind and you can be with your family."

"If he's happy where he is...," Reilly said.

"I know," Cahill said, ignoring his cousin. "It's just-"

"Stop making excuses, sweetie," she said, a hard edge to her voice. Then, a bit softer, she said, "We need you."

"Well, not really," Reilly quipped.

"And you need us," Oona continued. "There's nothing holding you there."

If only they'd give him a better reason. Something that would make it believable for him to change his mind now. Something they hadn't said a thousand times before.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Seamus said, sitting up. "Look, Mom's about ready to come to you in the Dreaming. Bodily. If she does that, Queen Titania will expel her from Faerie. Maybe even make war on the whole Walker clan." His brother then turned to Oona. "Don't bother telling me I wasn't supposed to say that. I know, and I don't care."

After a brief period of stunned silence, Cahill asked, "She can do that?"

Of all the questions he could have asked then, that was the least important. But to ask the obvious one would be to allow himself to believe something terrifying.

Maybe his brother's words didn't mean what he wanted to believe that they did. That their mother would risk war with the throne for him didn't necessarily mean that she cared for him any more than any of her other children. She was the matriarch, after all. It fell to her to do what was necessary to keep the family together.

"Yes, she can, dickhead," Seamus snapped. "That's not the point!"

"Honey, your brother's right," Oona told him. "We're not supposed to say anything, but now the cat's out of the bag, there's no point in keeping quiet. You can't let your mother cross that line. You just can't."

"She'd really do that? For me?" Cahill asked, heart thumping. It was a wonder the words came out coherently.

"Holy shit," Seamus said. Then, before Cahill could react to that, he added, "She'd do anything for her family. But she shouldn't have to. If you weren't so thickheaded, you wouldn't force her to prove that."

Right. For her family.

He felt crushed. And felt guilty for caring that there wasn't a different reason for his mother's willingness to risk everything to lure him away from the Dreaming.

At least he had all the pretense he needed for waking up though. If Caronwyn was prepared to go there, whatever her reason, it was time for him to leave the Dreaming. He wouldn't have to worry that anyone would assume that Liadan had put him up to it either. That she was using him to sow some mischief in the Emerald Court.

Even though she undoubtedly was.

"Okay," Cahill said, feeling numb.

"Okay?" Reilly scoffed. "After fifteen years, that's all he's got to say?"

Oona regarded her youngest nephew silently, face impassive.

"Can't hurt to try," Cahill said. "Worst that happens is I go for a little walk and have a good laugh at myself afterwards."

"No," Seamus said. "That's the only thing that will happen, if you don't believe it in your heart. You have to let go."

#

"Your father will love it," Liadan told him, admiring his handiwork.

"You think so?" Cahill asked, feeling a bit nervous.

He'd never even met the man, but it seemed fitting to finish the instrument off by adorning it with a few emeralds. He was, after all, the Prince of the Emerald Court. Still, it had taken the flute from plain and unassuming to very nearly gaudy. The green enamel depicting tendrils of ivy might be considered tasteful, but the fat jewels were really pushing it.

"It's beautiful," she said.

They stood outside his house, on the back porch, like as they had the other day. So much had changed since then though. That morning, the woods at the edge of his backyard had been no different from any other woods. All manner of impossible things happened after he entered them each night, but only in his dreams. Or so he'd thought. Now, he knew that a genuine gateway from the real world to Faerie lay at the far end of his property. He was no longer just an amateur flute maker, she an impetuous young woman from across the pond. The truth was out in the open now. He knew who his father was. A prince of Faery. Just as Liadan was a princess.

It was almost enough to make Cahill wonder if he'd dreamt everything since the night they'd walked through the park. Except that there was a part of him that knew it to be true. Had known for the longest time, yet refused to speak up.

"It's not too much? A bit ostentatious?"

Liadan grinned. "Arawn has never been a man of modest taste." She flicked one of the precious stones with a fingernail. "And he does so love pretty things."

Cahill allowed the tension to go out of his body.

"He's going to want to meet the man who crafted it," the beautiful princess said.

"And only for that reason?" Cahill asked, chuckling.

"He's never seen fit to introduce himself to your brothers. Why should you be different, if not for this?" she said, matter-of-factly.

Some people had this crazy notion that fathers might want to meet their sons. Such people evidently did not know much about the fey.

"Well, anyway, I should get going," Liadan said, rising. She slid the flute into a pocket that was much too small to hold it. Ut disappeared entirely, without so much as creating a bulge in her skin-tight jeans.

"You in a hurry?" he asked, taking one of her soft hands in his. The spark of ecstasy that traveled up his arm as he did might have made him shudder not long ago. Back when he'd only ever felt such things in his dreams. "I thought maybe-"

The sad, apologetic smile killed the rest of the sentence. Cahill felt emasculated. He couldn't remember the last time a woman turned him down, politely or otherwise. Ended a relationship, sure, but refused sex? That was all but unheard of.

"It was nice meeting you, Cahill," she said.

"Same here," he replied. His words sounded hollow even to his own ears.

Liadan studied his face quietly for a moment. Then she went up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. For a moment, he thought about kissing her properly, but he chose not to. He might find it hard to let the kiss remain a kiss if he submitted to it. Besides, it was best if he started detaching himself. When and if he saw her next, she wouldn't be the woman who'd helped him discover the truth about who he was, but the Lady of Mischief. The Puck.

Those obnoxiously full lips weren't that attractive anyway. Nor was her insanely proportioned figure. So what if she had the nicest legs and greatest ass of not just this world, but any possible world? It wasn't like she was all kinds of amazing in bed either.

They held each other's gaze for a few more moments, but Cahill understood what was happening. Goodbye. Perhaps for good, perhaps not, but at least goodbye for now. And so, without another word, his aunt walked away. With each step, she faded further from view, until even the ghostly echo of her was gone.

Cahill considered leaving the Dreaming himself at that point, but the woman who'd raised him as her own deserved to see him one last time before he left.

#

One of his sisters was on her knees, sucking his dick, when another one walked into his royal garden. Reluctantly, Arawn tapped Macha's shoulder and signaled for her to stop. There were precious few things he enjoyed as much as his sister's mouth, and most of them involved either other parts of her body or their mother, but visits from Liadan were rare.

He stood up from his makeshift throne, which was in truth no more than a fortuitously shaped stone outcropping that gave him a nice view of the pond and flowerbeds below. Then Arawn waved and gave his sister a smile that conveyed a warmth he didn't feel.

The others were as yet unconvinced that she was a worthy Puck. That she'd ever truly be the Lady of Mischief. Though Arawn saw no reason to doubt that the girl who'd accepted those titles had done so without truly understanding what they meant, he lived in fear that she might prove a quick study. Macha and the others were too quick to forget that the great Oberon had once been a scrawny little drama geek.

"Pardon the interruption, sweet brother mine," his sister said as she slid gracefully between rows of flowers half again as tall as her. "If it helps summat, I come bearing a gift."

Macha studied him silently as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Bright blue eyes begged Arawn to send Liadan away. Not because his sister feared that the gift might be a Trojan horse. She underestimated the youngest Dreamsmyth too much to believe that. No, Arawn suspected that Macha simply had little patience for his love of pretty things. Their sister didn't evoke the same jealousy in her that their mother did, but the only distinctions to be drawn among the objects of Macha's jealousy were fine ones.

Arawn might have been more flattered by that, if he thought that his sister was as attracted to him as he was to her. She only had eyes for their purebred son, though. The day Arawn vacated the throne would be the last he'd ever know the pleasures of her body.

"And what might that be?" he asked Liadan, ignoring Macha.

"A flute," she said, holding the silver instrument up for him to see.

It glittered beautifully in the soft moonlight. Even from his perch above the garden, he could make out the gems affixed to its slender length. Emeralds.

Fitting.

With a curl of two fingertips, a gesture not unlike the one he'd not a moment ago used to pleasure Macha, Arawn summoned the flute to him. It rose up out of Liadan's hands and floated across the garden, coming to rest in his hands.

It was majestic. Fit for a king. Or a prince. The enameled ivy crawlers gave it a simple elegance, but the emeralds made it a work of singular beauty.

"Where did you get this?" he asked the Sapphire Princess.

"Ah, see now that, that you don't get for free," she said, a twinkle in her brown eyes.

"Oh, for Faerie's sake, Arawn," Macha whispered in his ear, pressing her lithe body up against his. "Thank her for the flute and send her on her way."

He turned his head to the side and planted a soft kiss on his sister's forehead. Then he took a few steps forward, walking right off the edge of his impromptu dais.

The air grew thick, cushioning his descent. He settled to his feet by the edge of the pond, not a dozen paces from his youngest sister. Regarding her coolly, the Prince of the Emerald Court asked, "And what, pray tell, would you be asking in exchange?"

"A favor," she said, hands tucked behind her back and body rocking back and forth on her bare feet. She said it as if it were two syllables. Faaa-vor.

He snickered.

He had to give to Liadan, she knew how to look sweet and innocent. Few previous Pucks had been able to do that. If she thought that little routine would suffice to convince him that she had no idea that she was asking for a boon, though, or what those meant to their kind, she was sorely mistaken. He wasn't Kearney, after all, or Uillym. It would take more than that to get him wrapped around her finger.

"Forget it," he said.

"Glad to," she said. "But I don't think you will." A glistening tongue slid quickly, almost surreptitiously, across her obnoxiously full lips. A bigger fool than Arawn might have thought the gesture subconscious. "Try a few notes."

Warily, Arawn raised the flute to his lips, drew a deep breath, and played.

His Libido opened up without asking his permission. The instrument pulled energy from deep within him, as if it had a mind of its own, and infused the music with deep glamours. Powerful glamours. The garden began to bloom. Truly bloom. All of a sudden, Arawn realized that he'd been holding court in a desert wasteland. Flowers such as a century's time in Faerie had never shown him sprouted from the earth. The pond glittered as if the surface were littered with diamonds and other precious stones, rather than water and lily pads. The creatures of the forest sang in tune with his song, and the trees lent backing vocals.

Most importantly, even as his own energy drained away, his Libido slowly filled itself back up. Coruscating tendrils connected each of his sisters to him, and with each note that he played, they fed him further.

And they were fey. Naturally resistant to such glamours.

Should a mortal audience hear him play that flute... he couldn't even imagine what that would be like. But there'd be no need to take a handful of them backstage for a quick romp, that was for sure. All that they had to offer, they'd give to him willingly, and without bothering to take their clothes off. He'd soon be on the path to rivaling Oberon.

The smile on Liadan's face almost made him wish he'd never put it to his lips. She'd have her boon. He couldn't deny her that now. Couldn't refuse her gift, nor pass up the opportunity to learn from whence it had come.

"So," she said, fretting at her lower lip with her teeth. "A boon, yeah?"

And not a small one. He could try to haggle with her, but they both knew the worth of the information she withheld. That she'd given him the flute of her own free will technically didn't indebt him to her, but so long as they were discussing a boon anyway, that had to be taken into consideration as well.

"Aye," he said, choosing his words as she might have. "A major boon."

Liadan's faint grin became a huge smile, splitting her face from ear to ear.